


Phases

by j_gabrielle



Category: Dominion (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Drabble, M/M, Watching people grow, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael watches Alex grow through the different stages of his life. And it becomes a little too much like Twilight for his comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phases

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [阶段/Phases](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152641) by [lengyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lengyu/pseuds/lengyu)



_6 years-old_

Michael runs a hand through the sleeping boy's hair, golden in the light. The soft strands catch at his nails, brushing against his skin.

"You really need to stop visiting only when the kid's asleep." Jeep says from the corner of the room, taking a swig of his drink. "It's starting to look like a scene from a Twilight movie."

Michael frowns in his direction, slightly affronted by the comparison. "Has he been well?" He asks as Jeep moves to sit next to him on the bed.

"The usual; running around making trouble, puppy dog eyes to get him out of it." Jeep shrugs. He gazes upon his sleeping son, smiling sadly as he strokes a thumb over the bridge of his nose. "I don't think I can stay here any more, Michael. I need to know." He looks up; grief, anger and sadness warring in his eyes. "I have to..." He swallows, looking back down at his son.

"If you ever leave, Alex will always be under my protection. Even if he doesn't know it." Michael says, placing a hand on Jeep's shoulder. "I will always look after him."

Jeep laughs then, shaking his head. "I know, my friend." He smiles ruefully. "Even if the boy never knows it."

 

_11 years-old_

Alex is pale, eyes red-rimmed with bitter unshed tears. As he takes his place in the shelter, Michael finds himself half-moving to the boy before he aborts the gesture and stands his ground. It would be so, very easy to tell Riesen and Whele that this child is under his protection, to declare the boy's true purpose in the world, to shelter him from the hardships and pain that will follow.

It would not be difficult to pull Alex close to him, to hold him and reassure him of the good in the world, to tell him that his father loved him and that he will return for him some day. It would be the simplest thing to declare to the world that Alex Lannon is the babe he has watched over his entire life.

But he does nothing of the sort.

Instead Michael slinks back further into the shadows, watching as the boy lays down on his cot, blue eyes wide-open as if he feared closing them again.

 

_15 years-old_

The first sip of scotch goes down with a visible shudder. Alex grimaces as some of the older boys egg him on to finish the rest of the glass. Michael sighs quietly to himself from where he watches over them on the ledge of a roof. The boy is going to have the worst hangover.

A part of him yearns to teach them a proper lesson about drinking while in uniform. But another, smaller part, aches to go over and fold the boy into his arms, snarling at anyone that dares come close. The mental image of Alex laid out on his bed, sleeping so deeply in a way Michael knows he has forgotten how to, sinks its' claws into his mind. Shaking his head, he frowns. The thought of ~~having~~  keeping Alex safe is not new. In fact, it has disturbingly become a regular fixture in the windows of his musings of late.

But what difference would there be between him and the roving eyes of the elite that have begun to notice Alex and his beauty? He has done his best to quell any interest about the boy, making sure that to those looking and admiring him, he would appear to be another unremarkable, unimportant boy. Alex would never know, of course. He would never know the dark lengths Michael has gone to keep him safe. 

Michael goes to kneel on one knee, still watching over the boys as they pour him another glass. Perhaps it is time to alert their superiors.

 

_17 years-old_

He manages to track the boy down to a club. The pounding beats of the music pulsate through him, making his blood sing as he knocks back another shot of whatever swill they had. Pulling his hood around him tightly, he looks around him. Alex is dancing with another man, clearly inebriated as he gyrates against him. The man, a big burly fellow, has his hands on Alex's hips, grinning as if he could not believe his luck. The boy presses his barely clothed body to the man's sweat slicked form, rolling his hips to the music. Michael bristles.

The boy isn't even supposed to be here. He isn't supposed to be _old_ enough to be here.

"You know, if you want him, you should just go get him." The voice of the bartender carries over the bar, through the music. Michael looks back at her, arching an eyebrow.  The girl, barely a day older over 20, shrugs. "You've been sitting here the whole time, staring at him like he's the last piece of chocolate on Earth. Just go get him already."

"You don't know what you're saying." He says, struggling to make himself heard over the music.

"Yeah, well. I know he's coming this way." She smirks, enjoying the way Michael stiffens when Alex comes to lean against the bar, shouting his order. 

"Hey." Alex slurs, half sliding over him to press his lips to the side of his face. "Saw the way you looked at me."

"Yeah?" Michael says, deliberately not turning.

"Yeah." Alex laughs. "And I wouldn't stop you if you wanted it."

Michael's hand clenches around his glass, and he catches himself before he can shatter it. Suddenly, a flare of anger blooms bright and dangerous behind his eyelids. Twisting around, he cages Alex between his arms, slamming him back against the bar. Before Alex can utter a word of protest, he slots their mouths together, kissing him desperately. Michael folds every frustration, every unspoken desire into his kiss. He licks into the moist cavern of Alex's mouth, stealing his gasps and moans of pleasure. Michael slides his hands over the boy's back, moving them down to cup at his ass. He grips them, hard. The hold causes Alex to shudder in his embrace, pressing his body helplessly close. 

There is a prevalent taste of alcohol on Alex's tongue. And it is this that Michael anchors himself with. 

He pulls away, reaching into his coat pocket for some bills and dropping them on the counter top next to his empty glass. Turning, he flees through the crowd of people.

 

_21 years-old_

He keeps his distance, does not push for unnecessary closer proximity with the boy if he can help it. He maintains the public image of the aloof, other worldly figure that he has cultivated over the years.

Michael watches him from a far, reminding himself that this is what he needs to be for Alex; the guardian angel. He repeats it to himself that Alex is better off knowing nothing about the darkness that swirls beneath. It is better for everyone if Alex does not know about the lengths Michael would go for him. 

 

_25 years-old_

Michael knows he is lying. He can taste it in the air around them. It is intertwined with guilt and regret.

Alex's torso is bare before him; the swirls of the tattoos snaking over his skin, marking him for greatness. Michael wishes he had more to give the boy besides the protection he should have offered years ago.

"I know it was you." Alex's voice carries from where he sits at the bed. Michael does not start, closing his eyes as he leans against the windowless frame.

"I know it was you. That night when I was 17. At that club. You were the man with the hood." Alex continues, his voice growing stronger and closer.

"You don't know what you're saying." Is all Michael says, but he does not move.

Alex lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to face him. "I do. I know that there was a man I once kissed when I was a teenager. I know that I have never stopped thinking about him."

A broken laugh slithers forth past Michael's lips. "Alex..." He begins.

"Everything I have ever known, everything that I was sure about me, it's all changed now. I don't-" He breaks away, blinking rapidly. "You're the only certainty I have left, Michael." Alex says softly.

Michael brings his hands to frame Alex's face, drawing him closer. 

"Don't take this away from me too." 

Growling softly, he closed the remaining distance, pressing their lips together. The sensation of having Alex against him once more, tasting him, feeling him against him is almost a little too much to bear. 

Michael knows that he will regret this when he comes to his senses. No good will ever come of this. But as Alex licks the backs of his teeth, it becomes harder and harder to remember why.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Even if Malex becomes a little too much like Twilight, *mock whispers* it's still a better love story.
> 
> //runs//
> 
> Come talk to me to tumblr! http://randomingoftherandomness.tumblr.com


End file.
